Visitation
by Victoria Nope
Summary: I love my brother, and I'd do anything for him, even if that means I have to work at Fox River to be close to him. But why do I feel this pull to his worst enemies? And what's this about an...escape?    Summary is crappy, story is much better, I swear!
1. Prologue

A/N: Yeah, I know I have a gazillion other stories going on, but I needed to get this over with and write it. I got the idea because I was curious about certain people's family. (You'll find out who soon, but whatever, it's a mystery for now.) Hope you enjoy, and yeah, this'll have more chapters, but for now, just enjoy, review, eat a bagel, and most importantly, READ!

Prologue

My brother and I are close, even though we happen to be ten years apart. He's always looked after me, and well, he is the only family I have left these days. I love him more than anyone else in this world, and I know he feels the same. Don't get me wrong, we're not into incest or anything, it's just...hard to explain. He was always there when I needed someone,and I try to do the same for him. When he was sent to prison, I sent him pictures of the places I went, of my friends and I, and of anything he might like, and he sent me letters and called me whenever he could.

I'll always love him, no matter what society persecutes him for, and I'll always be by his side. Speaking of my brother, that's where I'm going today. I work nearby at a hospital, so I try to swing by every week to see him.

My car pulls up into the designated visitor parking and I switch the ignition off, and sit there, making sure my make-up is still alright. I toss my dark brown hair that I had worked on for an hour to get curls in over my shoulder, where it hangs down to mid back and tickles my bare shoulders. I step out of the car and into the warm Chicago sun, double checking to make sure the doors are locked. I start to walk toward Visitation, my sandals slapping against the hot pavement. I am not ashamed of who I'm here to see, because he might be a murderer, but I love my brother, and family is family dammit.

The guard on duty, a pleasant looking black man, says, "Please state your name and the name of the inmate you're here to see, ma'am."

"My name is Theresa," I say, my southern accent strong, and the guard looks up in surprise. "And I'm here to see my brother, Theodore Bagwell."


	2. Application Filed

A/N: Yes, I know I;m a bad person for not posting chapters sooner, and I have no excuse to cover myself with, but here is a thousand sorrys and a new chapter. How did you guys like the surprise? You see, I'd been thinking a LOT about T-Bag's family/history (he's one of my favorite characters) and I decided he needed some family, because he just seemed like he needed a giant ass hug for some reason...(I'd hug him). He might be a little out of character for this, but anyway, read, review, and enjoy the first chapter! (Oh, I am having some trouble with coming up with stuff to happen in this, so if you can give me ideas, then I'd love you forever. I was thinking about switching between her and T-Bag or her and Michael, but I don't know. Help is appreciated!) NOW FREAKIN' READ!

I sat down on the visitor side of the glass and waited, as always, for Theodore to be brought from A-Wing. My hands trembled slightly, nerves I suppose, and I played with the clasps on my large white imitation leather purse, flicking them open and closed with soft snaps. _How will he take the news?_ I wondered, and the sound of footsteps broke me out of my thoughts, and when I looked up, I saw my brother be led to the other side of the glass. He gave the black guard a look of contempt as he started to recite the visitation rules, and finally let my brother sit down.

"You look good, Teddy." I said, winking.

"Well, unfortunately, Terri, the prison wear isn't all that presentable." He smiled that warm, sunny smile of his as he used my most hated nickname.

"I'm here not even a minute and you're already messing with me!" I laughed anyway. Theodore had a way of making me smile, even when the wold was a black hole. He also had a temper that could fry you better than hell could, but I seemed to be the only person that could make him go back to his sweet self again._ No_ _sense in putting off the inevitable._

"Teddy...I have good news and bad news." I said, changing the subject from playful to serious.

"Bad news first. Get it over with." he stated, his own southern twang defining his voice as the smile slipped off his face.

"Well, I quit working at the hospital." He raised an eyebrow.

"Now why would you do a think like that?"

"Because..." _Here it goes._ "Because I'm going to work here instead." My brother's face turned hard and stone-like, his eyes turning to bits of rusted metal.

"They already accepted me, Teddy. I start work day after next because my friend Sara put in a good word for me." I added quickly, my green eyes meeting his own rust colored ones in a stare.

"No." he said, breaking the uncomfortable silence.

"What do you mean?"

"What I mean is that you ain't gonna do it, Theresa." He pointed at me, emphasizing his words.

"It's too late. I've already been accepted." I argued. "And don't point at me!"

"You don't seem to understand what I'm saying, sister o' mine. The people in here will eat you alive. And what do you think is gonna happen during a riot?" Theodore's voice had a jagged edge to it that I'd only heard a handful of times before.

"Well, _brother o' mine_, I can handle myself fine, thanks _so_ much for your faith in me." I was almost shouting, not caring if people stared. I loved him, but God, he still treated me like a child. I grabbed my bag and started to stand and leave.

"Theresa, just hold on, alright?" I turned to him and saw the look in his eyes, the look that was all brotherly concern. I sat back down with a thump. He rubbed his face with his cuffed hands, and I noticed how much older he seemed to look, like he was sixty instead of thirty-nine.

"Teddy," I started, my voice soft. "I'll be fine. And if I'm not, well then you can beat the shit out of the person that tries to hurt me. Deal?" That made him smile a little bit. I placed my hand on the glass and he did like-wise, our own little gesture from child-hood. "Just think, soon I'll be able to hug you, and then punch you in the stomach for being a jerk." We both laughed and I was informed that our time was up. I stood, and before I left, I made sure to turn back one more time and see my brother wink before he was led away.

_**Two Days Later...**_

I was desperately chugging my fifth cup of coffee in an attempt to stay conscious. Worry had plagued me the night before, and it had taken hours for me to slip into a light doze. This usually didn't happen, as I regularly took anti-anxiety meds because of, well, anxiety. I had a limited number left when I came to visit Theodore, and I didn't find the time to swing by the pharmacist in the time since then. _Need to get it taken care of. _I looked at my clip board to see what the agenda was for today, and was informed my that my first patient of the job, a Mr. Michael Scofield here for an insulin shot.

My eyes are stuck to the paperwork in my hands as I tried not to look at him when the guard escorted him in._ Oh Jesus, what if I have trouble getting a vein? What if I have to dig around to find one? _My eyes glanced upwards and stayed, surprised by this Michael Scofield character. He was tall, a few inches taller than I am, and not exactly muscular, but you could definitely see the strength he had. His hair was shaved close to his head, and his washed out blue eyes held mine in a stare.

"Michael Scofield?" I asked, and when he smiled, his features instantly changed from serious to pleasant.

"That's me, Doc." He sat down in the chair near the window and waited while I unlocked the medicine cabinet and grabbed a bottle of insulin. I selected a syringe from the drawer. I rolled my chair over to Michael and rolled up his left sleeve, taking time to appreciate the tattoo that covered his arm and probably most of his torso as well. I drew the clear liquid from the glass bottle, and swabbed the crook of his arm with an alcohol pad. Surprisingly enough, my hands didn't shake, but _his_ seemed to and I carefully plunged the needle into his arm.

"Any other conditions I should know about?"

"None that I know of, Doc. But you'll be the first to know." I smiled and removed the needle beofre placing a bandage over the tiny hole. "So...Theresa Bagwell? Are by any chance-"

"Related to Theodore Bagwell?" He nodded. "That's a yes, I'm his sister."

"Well, nice to have family around in a place like this." He got up to leave, and as the guard took him back to his cell, I couldn't help but wonder if the same applied to him.

XXXX

_"Teddy, why did you get in the way? He hurt you instead of me!" A sad smile spread across his bloody face._

_ "You're five, Theresa."_

_ "So? I could've at least helped!" He mussed up her hair slightly. _

_ "I'll make sure you won't have to. I'll always protect you, sis." He pulled her into a tight hug, and she felt what seemed like tears fall onto her head. "While I'm around, nothin' is gonna happen. Nothin' at all." _


	3. Old Times

A/N: Oh. My. GOD. I didn't think people would like this story that much...And because I freaking love all of you, I decided to upload another chapter of this. :3 For everyone waiting for an update on _A Girl Alone_ and _House, _I am working on more chapters for those, I swear on Gobstoppers! (I FUCKING LOVE THOSE) Anyway, I hope you love this chapter I uploaded especially for all of you! I won't EVER desert my stories, I pomise. (But sometimes I won't upload for awhile...) Read, review, and enjoy!

When I started work yesterday, I didn't expect much...and recieved it. But today, well, that is a different story.

"Hey doc, we need you to take a look at someone." Geary explained, and I turned away from my current patient.

"Let me finish up here, and I'll be right with you." I turned back and handed the previous man, James, a few aspirin for the joint trouble he was having, then stood and followed Geary out of the infirmary, but not before I put on a fresh pair of gloves. Can't be too careful in a prison, right? I matched the C.O.'s fast pace, wondering where the hell we were going as he kept running his mouth incessantly.

"Found the guy like this, and he won't say who did it. Guess being alive is better than getting revenge, huh?" He ushered me through a doorway and into a little room, and I felt my heat stop as I saw the man. My brother was lying on his side, blood all over his face and white shirt, making him look like he had been through a massacre. His eyes were closed, and he was holding his sides and his abdominals. I crouched by him and opened his eyelids one at a time, shining my penlight into each one.

"Theodore? Come on, talk to me." I said loudly. He opened one bloodshot eye and stared at me as if I was an alien.

"Came to my rescue, huh?" he muttered, trying to laugh but instead it turned into a gasp of pain he that gritted his teeth against. I stood and motioned briskly to the C.O.'s

"You need to move him to the infirmary if I'm to treat him," I stated, somehow managing to keep a cold, professional tone. "And don't just yank and toss him around, be careful, he might have some broken ribs." I supervised the lifting and once we got back to the infirmary, the guards left to do something else, thankfully, and I began my examination with a new pair of gloves.

"You should tell them who did it." I murmured as I ran my fingers across his ribs, searching his face for any signs of pain. He winced and I backed off, moving onto his arms and legs.

"That's not the way it works in here."

"Well then how _does_ it work, huh?" I stood, angry, and grabbed my clipboard to make a few notes. "Do you know how terrified I was? Do you?" I tossed the clipboard down, instead picking up a roll of paper towels. I dampened a few of them and gave them to Theodore so he could wipe off the blood, then sat back down, arms and legs crossed. He was silent as he mopped his face. I softened a little and rolled my chair nearer.

"I'll see what I can do about getting you another shirt." I murmured and he laced his fingers through mine.

"Just like old times." He chuckled, eliciting a smile from me.

"Except this time, it's you instead of the both of us."

"It's better that way. Don't have to see you get hurt." He shifted positions with a grimace. I sighed in defeat and ran my free hand through my hair to get it out of my face.

"Yeah, but I have to see it happen to you. Your little fight caused you to have some bruised ribs and a hairline fracture in your left cheekbone. Both will hurt, but you'll live. You will be black and blue for a while as well, and you'll look like hell, but I'm guessing you don't really care, do you?" He smiled sweetly.

"You know me better than anyone else, Theresa."

"That's because I'm your sister, and I've lived with you." I smiled back, and started my report. Warden Pope wasn't going to be happy with this.

X X X X

_Even at night, it was too hot in Alabama. It was about 11 p.m. or so, and I was already working on my second Mike's Harder Punch drink, the one that comes in the giant can, and it would probably take another two before I felt even a little bit buzzed. I took a pull from the can, and then rolled the cold beverage across my flushed face. I was wearing a pair of green shorts and a black tank top, and I was __still__ dying. A loud banging on my front door pulled me out of my misery, and I quickly padded over to the door and opened it. A familiar figure stumbled through the opening and into my living room, and when the light hit him, I knew I should assume the worst._

_"Oh Jesus, Teddy." I whispered, and helped him to the couch. His clothes were splattered with blood, and a long section of his jeans had been torn. His face was white and scratched, and he looked like he had been to hell and back. I ran to my bathroom and grabbed my massive "hospital-in-a-bag" kit along with some black towels, and came back into the living room. I kneeled before him, and got to work. _

_"Where are you injured at?" He gestured to his leg and left shoulder, and I removed his jacket. Using a pair of scissors from my bag, I carefully cut his shirt off, and peeled it gingerly away from his shoulder. It looked like a small caliber wound, possibly a .22, but even the small ones can be bad. "Who the hell shot you?"_

_"Cops." He ground out, his face covered in sweat even though he was freezing cold, and his eyes were tightly closed. He hissed air out through his teeth when I touched his injury lightly, so I knew something had to be done. I grabbed his hand and held it tightly._

_"I need to clean it, or else it's going to be even worse. I'll give you some meds, but it's not going to be pleasant." He nodded, and I crossed to the kitchen to grab him a glass of water to down a few Vicodin with, and pulled on a pair of gloves. "I'm sorry." I murmured, placing a black towel around the entry wound. I gave him one last glance, and then poured rubbing alcohol on his shoulder. He groaned and dug his fingers into the couch, making deep impressions into the fabric. _

_Blood started to flow from the hole, and I used the towel to apply pressure, grateful that blood didn't show up on black fabric. His face turned ashy and his breathing grew labored. _

_"You need to breathe. Focus on breathing slowly in and out." I advised, and pulled the towel away. I inspected the hole, and to my relief, there was no bullet. I pressed a hand to his face and smiled. "No bullet and no fragments. It went straight through." He nodded briskly, and his breathing, while still heavy, grew steadier. "All I need to do now is sew it up, and then I can take a look at your leg, alright?" No answer, as I expected, and I quickly and neatly sewed his shoulder up, front and back, then moved down to check his leg._

_It was a whole lot better than his gunshot wound, I can tell you that. It was a long gouge wound, probably from a fence or barbed wire, and it wasn't all that deep, but it wound need to be glued instead of stitched. I went through the ordeal of cleaning and fixing that, complete with medical grade glue to hold it together. By the time I was finished, my brother was white again, and after I took my bloody gloves off, I held his hand once more._

_"You'll stay here tonight, and tomorrow, you can tell me the story, okay?" His eyes opened, and, for a brief second, I saw something like remorse, but it was gone as quickly as it came._

_"Whatever you say, sis." _

_X X X X_

I shook the memory off, and tore my eyes away from my sleeping brother's form; the scars were now faint, and difficult to see unless you were looking for them, I but I knew I would never be able to forget their places on him. I was relieved to see he was still asleep, and that the sedatives were still doing their thing. Whoever it was that had fought him had really gotten him bad, and by fought, I mean beat the shit out of him. It had only happened yesterday, even though it seemed like an eternity had passed. I hadn't left the infirmary; I had instead opted to sleep in my office, and only after Teddy had fallen asleep. It may seem creepy, me doing that, but it is only out of fear for his well-being (not that I think he can't protect himself) and out of love.

"You alive over there?" Sara questioned, and I turned around to see my friend smiling at me, clipboard in hand.

"Y-yeah." I stammered, and returned her smile, although mine was a bit more strained. "Just tired." Sara and I had met a few years back, when I first moved to Chicago, in fact, and we met at the hospital I had just quit, and we had since become almost inseparable.

Sara's smile faded a little. "Did you get your refill yet?" I nodded.

"Yeah, it's just they're not working yet. Takes a few minutes." I left the office and made my way over to Michael, who was here for the regular insulin shot.

"How are you, Theresa?" He asked his eyes intense and pretty as they searched my face.

"Fine, yourself?" I grabbed all the necessary paraphernalia for Michel's shot, but the look on his face stopped me. He looked guilty as hell and a little sad too, but he smiled anyway.

"Could be better."

"Oh yeah? And why's that?" He shook his head.

"Nothing that you need to worry about." I glanced upward, and saw his eyes, and for a second I caught the stress and worry that were there before they disappeared. And, for some weird reason, that bothered me a little.

"You alright, Michael?"

"Yeah, just never really got used to needles." He smiled, and I returned it.

"I find that hard to believe with all those tattoos. How long did all those take?"

"Not as long as you might think." He stood, and started to leave, so I turned away and started looking for my pen so I could start Michael's paperwork.

"Theresa…" I turned around, finding Michael standing next to my desk. "I'm sorry about your brother." He murmured, and left before I could get in another word. What the hell did he mean by _that_? I went over to the desk and set about looking for my pen again, and I found it…with a white origami rose tied around it.


	4. Revolution

A/N: I apologize a thousand times for my damn internet, but the…um…oh yeah! THIRD chapter is now here for your reading pleasure. And guess what? I saw TWEENER on Night Stalker! (The new one with Stuart Townshend that only has one season) I shouted out "OMG TWEENER" And my family all gave me WTF looks…and no, I usually don't say OMG, but this case it was needed. :D So read, review, and enjoy or I'll burn your houses down!

P.S. I will have new chapter of _A Girl Alone_ up soon, so be happy. :D

As I expected, my brother was impatient to get back to his cell, although I couldn't understand.

"I'm considering breaking your nose." I muttered good-naturedly.

"Yes, but then you would have to explain that to the Pope and your fiend over there." He pointed to a random direction behind me where I assumed Sara was. "And then I would still go back.

"Your arm then. Or your leg." I smiled, and glanced over at him. His face was still bruised pretty badly, but he moved like his ribs weren't a problem. My mind flashed back to the countless fights my brother had started, the innumerable bruises, the blood…

I blocked out the unpleasant memories, and grudgingly finished the paperwork to release Teddy into Gen Pop. "You sure you want to go back?" I asked one last time, worry weighing down my heart.

"Sorry, Sister Theresa, but I have business that needs to be seen to." He pulled me into a quick hug, and kissed the top of my head before regretfully letting me go.

"You know, I'm go home after you leave, maybe get some sleep." Teddy was aware of my anxiety problem, and it just made him even more protective. He face went teasingly stern.

"Good. You know, if you slept a little during the day, you could pass for a vampire." We both broke out into laughter, and the weigh lifted a little from my heart. The guard, someone I wasn't acquainted with, took Teddy back to his cell, while I made my way to Sara.

"How you holding up?" Her gaze rose from her paperwork.

"Could be better." she muttered. She looked worse than I did, and that was saying something. Her normally bright, pleasant eyes were filled with exhaustion and worry.

"Hey, Sara…why don't you go home?" She looked slightly surprised.

"I can't just leave you here!"

"I'll be fine. I'll finish up your paperwork and take care of these guys for you." No matter how crappy I felt, my friend was more important. She hesitated, the finally agreed. I gave her a goodbye wave as she left, then sat down where she had sat. I quickly flipped through the paperwork, and discovered it as about Lincoln Burrows, the man that supposedly killed the V.P's brother. I remembered Warden Pope had informed Sara and me that we were supposed to give him physicals every couple days starting in a few days. The file mentioned a father, Aldo Burrows, and a mother, Christina Rose Scofield.

_Wait…Scofield?_

I stood, and searched through my files for Scofield, Michael, and pulled it out. Father, Aldo Burrows, mother, Christina Rose Scofield.

"They're _brothers_?"

XXXX

The sun beat down angrily on the prison as I approached "The Yard" fence. Michael was walking towards me as well, and, weirdly, he was wearing a long-sleeved shirt despite the heat.

"Hottest April on record." I offered, causing him to smile.

"Global Warming."

"The end of us all. But humanity's impending doom is not why I wanted to talk to you. I have to give your brother regular physicals now, and I could time your visits so you could see him, even if it's just for a few minutes." Michael's face went blank, and then a genuine smile spread across his face and made his pretty eyes light up.

"I would like that, Theresa. Thank you." Feeling good for the first time in a few days, I returned his smile, and retreated to the slightly cooler infirmary.

XXXX

An hour later, I was still in the prison hospital and it was _still_ hot as hell. Apparently, the air conditioning had cut out in A Block, and we kept receiving people suffering from heat stroke. I spared a worried thought toward my brother, but I managed to block out all doubts somehow, and focused on the patients that needed me. Hopefully, the A/C in A Block would be fixed soon, and I'd be able to get a reprieve. After another hour of dealing with patients, I managed to slip away for a quick breather, which basically amounted to me getting a cup of coffee from the nurse/guard break room. There were two in Fox River, but the other was a man cave that I didn't dare try to enter.

I took a quick sip of coffee, relieved that I had added enough sugar, and started walking back. The sound of shouts coming from farther down the hallway stopped me. I cautiously turned the corner, and beheld chaos. The inmates in the hospital were going _berserk_, and the guard was unconscious and cuffed to the metal handicap rail that was bolted to the wall.

"Rex, Gyro, Hare, go find the doc!" a large black man commanded, and his thee buddies headed out with a cheer. They saw me almost instantly and raced towards me. I stood motionless, feeling like something had shut down in my mind, and that I was empty.

Thankfully, my reactions still worked, as I somehow managed to throw my searing hot coffee, mug and all, at the trio. As they started to how in pain, I turned and sprinted away like a freaking Olympic gold winner.

_No, no, no, no, no…_ My mind screamed as my arms and legs moved furiously to carry me away from danger. A little voice in the back of my mind spoke up, mockingly.

_You brother was right. You are never going to survive. Those inmates haven't been with a girl for years and once they find you…_

I skidded around a corner, my shoes squeaking angrily as my momentum crashed me into the wall. I made a small sound of pain before continuing my desperate escape down the corridor.

_Just be happy your brother doesn't know you're still here. The things he would do to find you…_

I ignored the thoughts in my head, and slowed to a stop as I heard voices coming towards me. And by the sound of it, I assumed they were more inmates. I turned around, meaning to go the other way, but voices were coming from that way too. My chest tightened suddenly, and my heart pounded wildly, as if trying to tear itself free from my ribcage. I struggled to draw in a breath to clear my head, but my lungs had stopped working. My mind vaguely acknowledged I was having a panic attack.

Eons ago, Teddy had taught me a trick to get through one, and it had always seemed to work. _"Just count backwards from one hundred."_

I closed my eyes and struggled to think. _100…99…98…97…_The shouts came closer on either side of me. _90…89…88…_ I was almost sobbing, trying to wrestle air into my throat. _74…73…72…71…70…69…_

Miraculously, my chest loosened, and I gasped in oxygen, relief overwhelming me. My moment of solace was cut short by a hand touching the top of my head. I shrieked, and turned around to see an arm coming out of the ceiling, and my eyes traveled upwards to behold a familiar face.

"Grab my hand!" Michael Scofield commanded with a look of relief and desperation in his eyes. And, despite everything in me saying no, I grabbed his hand, and let him pull me into the ceiling and away from danger…for now.


	5. Resolution

A/N: FINALLY! Here is the chapter for you guys so you won't kill me. :3 BTW I finally saw _Drive Angry_, and I decided that WIllaim Fichtner is a BEAST! You guys REALLY need to watch it.

The air in the ceiling was musty and stale, but I gulped it down like I was dying, my hand fisted against my heart as I tried to steady my breathing. Michael, my rescuer, held a finger to his lips in a hush gesture, and replaced the ceiling tile just as the two groups of inmates met each other below.

"You ain't the doc!"

"Do I look like her, you goddamn fool!" They squabbled in the hallway while we hid above, dead silent. Michael squeezed my shoulder, concerned, and I grabbed his hand, holding tightly as my breathing returned to normal. I released him, slightly embarrassed that he had to save my ass before.

"I…thanks."

"No problem. And don't worry." His smile was slightly strained. "I'm not that dangerous."

I laughed, needing it. He motioned for me to follow him as he deftly maneuvered the small path and, for some reason God probably didn't even know, he seemed to know where he was going.

"How did you get up here?"

"Assignment for P.I. A pipe had broken loose up here, and we had to clean out the toxic mold it made."

"Hope you wore a mask. Can't have the prison getting sued." We shared a dark chuckle. After a few minutes, my chest started feeling tight again, and I asked if we could stop for a few seconds. Michael obliged, despite the worry in his eyes. We were both silent as I waited for the feeling to pass.

"Have you ever been to Panama?" he asked, cutting through the silence.

"No, but I want to."

"Panama's great. There are fresh fruit markets, and miles of ocean, and a little place on the beach that sells beer for twenty-five cents…it's beautiful."

He fell silent again with a smile on his face.

"Have you ever been to Thailand? Thailand's great too-"

"So not helping." I said, the tightness gone.

"Better?" he smiled that real smile again, and I nodded, breathing easier. His face changed as he looked behind me, and I turned around. One of the ugly ceiling tiles was being lifted up, and one of the inmates that had been in pursuit of me earlier was trying to stick his head through and look around.

"I don't see nuthin-"

_**WHAM!**_

My shoe hit him directly in the face, and I heard a snap as my kick broke his nose. He screamed and fell back down, but not before I saw the blood coursing down his face. Michael grabbed my hand and pulled me along quickly. We finally arrived to where he was leading me. He exited the ceiling first, and helped me down, and it wasn't until I was on the tile floor did I realize where we were. He led me to the fucking entrance to _The Yard_.

"You need to go before someone else comes along."

"Michael-"

"What's up, doc?" A low voice growled, and it was one of the men from the infirmary, and he was blocking the way out. He towered over us, and was about to attack when a gunshot echoed through the room. He hit the floor with a loud, resounding thump, and I assumed he was dead. I turned my attention to Michael again, horrified, and saw the three moving red dots centered on him.

"Oh shit…"

"They aren't firing because they don't want to risk hitting you." He informed me, face void of expression, and his eyes cold as chips of ice. "They probably think I'm trying to hurt you."

"But I could tell them-"

"No." he stated, cutting me off. "I'm going to push you out that door, and then you have to go. I'll be fine."

"I-"

He pushed me out the door and into what looked like a military base. Troops and S.W.A.T. teams were everywhere, swarming The Yard like a bunch of pissed-off hornets.

"Theresa!" Sara was running towards me, and gave me a once-over. "Are you okay? Are you hurt?"

"No and no. I'm fine."

"Thank God." That was Warden Pope. He looked relieved to see me, and I went with them towards an ambulance to be checked out (against my will), but not before I shot a glance behind me.

Michael was gone.

X X X X

The next day, Sara and I returned to work, albeit a little more cautiously. What did you expect us to do, hide for a few days at home?

Warden Pope was worried, and pissed off. Unsurprisingly, because the governor had shown up during the riot, doing his duties I guess, and had apparently threatened the Warden that he would take away his job or something.

I was pulled away from my thoughts by a guard calling my name. I went towards him, and saw my brother standing there, relief etched into his face. He hugged me tightly, squeezing the oxygen out of me, but I didn't care, I just hugged him back just as tight.

"You said you were going home." He whispered into my hair. His voice was thick, and sounded weird. Was he close to crying? I count on my fingers the times I had seen him like this, and the times he's actually cried are less than that.

He released me, but held me at arm's length, scrutinizing me.

"How?" he asked, stroking my cheek with his thumb.

"Michael saved my ass." Teddy nodded grimly, and kissed my forehead.

The guard finally intervened, and took my brother back to A Wing, but not before I "checked him out". (He had apparently faked pain in his ribs so he could be brought here.)

Michael was my next appointment, and I greeted him less cheerfully than normal. After I gave him the insulin, I sat down and looked him in his stunning eyes.

"Listen I…" I didn't know how to say it.

"You're grateful, but don't want to owe me?" He smiled when I nodded, feeling foolish. "I'll figure out a way for you to. And it won't be bad." The guard came to get him, and I watched them leave. Sara and I were alone again, so, her being my best friend, I told her the story.

"But P.I. wasn't working up there, and they never have. They would have to inform us so we could give them the correct masks to use."

We stared at each other. What the hell was Michael doing up there, then? And how did he know his way around?

The biggest question hung heavy in the air between us, a simple one, but it was hard to answer.

Do we report it to the Warden?


	6. Almost Got It

A/N: Sorry for the large amount of dialogue in this. :P I wanted to give Theresa some more back story, and I needed to have some sort of connection between her and Lincoln. But I hope you guys like the end of this chapter! Read and review!

P.S. This chapter is for Smartlooks. :D

_"I did somethin' bad, sis." My brother whispered, his arms wrapped around me tightly. _

_"What did you do?"_

_"I…killed him." I was quiet, my face buried in his jacket. We stayed there for a few seconds, just holding each other and taking comfort from the presence of one another._

_"You…murdered Ian?" I asked softly. He nodded. I detached myself from him, and held his face in my hands. God, he looked so tired, and so old. _

_"I had to. He was going to kill you, and the police wouldn't have cared. I just wish I would've done it sooner so he… he wouldn't have laid his hands on you." I kissed his forehead, and hugged him._

_"I don't hate you, Teddy. You can't do that, though. You can't just kill people when I'm in danger." I moved back and looked him in the eyes. "I love you, but I might have to move again."_

_"You won't. I hid the body so no one can find it." He stroked my cheek._

_"I love you, Theresa."_

X X X X

I sat up in bed, cradling my aching head in the darkness of my room. I fumbled for my Xanax and dry swallowed two, trying to think.

_"Theresa…what do we do?"_

_"He saved my life. We can't just snitch on him. How grateful would that be?"_

_"What do we do then?"_

_"I…I don't know."_

The conversation replayed over and over again in my mind as I headed to the kitchen and hunted adamantly through the cabinets for my Sleepy Time Tea. If I made coffee this late I would be up all night. I set the kettle thing on the lit stove, and then sat down at the table and rested my head on my arms. Jesus, I couldn't _think_. My head was just an angry buzz of memories and thoughts.

_"Where do you think you're going?" my father asked, drink in hand like always._

_"Outside. I was going to read, sir." He smiled that sickly sweet grin he usually used on Teddy. He laid his hand on my thigh._

_"Good girl. You're so smart…"_

The whistle of the kettle alerted me, and I went to turn the stove off. I poured the scalding water into my favorite cup before adding the tea bag. I sat down again, steeping the tea, my thoughts wandering.

_"Jesus, what happened to your hand?" I slid my sleeve over my arm and backed away. _

_"Nothing. I-I just burned myself. I'm clumsy." I lied. "I was cooking and laid my hand down on the stove. Stupid, right?" My friend's eyes softened and she looked away, accepting that I wouldn't tell her the truth._

_"Yeah. Stupid." _

X X X X

That morning, I still had no idea what I should say to Michael, but I would know when the moment came, I suppose. I was scheduled to give Lincoln a physical, and when he was brought in, I gave him a shaky smile. He was tall and muscled, with strong features and a shaved head. Attractive, just like his brother.

"Hey, doc." he muttered.

"Hello, Lincoln. You seem distracted."

"Could say the same for you." This close, I could see his eyes were green and lively, not unlike Michael's. _Interesting._

"Well, you have me there. Tell me yours and I'll tell you mine." He stared at me, thinking.

"My son is in trouble. He won't listen, and he doesn't care about anything."

"Sounds like a normal kid." He shook his head.

"Used to be a straight A student. Now…now he's just a punk. I don't want him to…"

"End up like you? Don't worry. With you as his dad, and Michael as his uncle, I bet my life he'll be alright." He smiled at me, and then watched as I took his blood pressure.

"Your turn, Theresa. What's up?"

I sighed. "Someone saved my life. I found out that they did it using…well, by using a method that would probably get him in trouble. And it's my job to report what he did. But I can't."

"Because he saved your life."

"Exactly." I finished up his exam and wrote in his file that there was no change with his condition before turning back to him.

"Wow…sounds like you're screwed." I laughed while he shot me a grin.

"Sounds like you two are getting along." Michael said from behind us, smiling as well. I excused myself from their presence so that they could be alone.

"You're not going to tell the Warden." Sara said , and I turned to her.

"I don't think I will. He _did_ save my ass, Sara. He's not a bad guy."

"He's a _criminal_."

"I know, I'm not an idiot! It's not like I'm falling for him."

_Why does that feel like a lie?_

X X X X

After Lincoln was taken away, I met Michael in my office.

"You two have fun talking?" he asked as I prepped the needle.

"Yeah, your brother is a…he's a good man."

"He tries to be. I'm afraid he gets lead astray every now and then, though." I smiled faintly.

"I know the feeling." I stripped my gloves off before standing and looking him straight in the eyes. "I want to know why you came for me, Michael. Why did you risk it if you knew I might tell the Warden what happened?" His smile melted away, and he turned serious.

"You needed help, so I was there for you. You wouldn't tell the Warden because you're too good of a person to rat someone out like that. And besides…" he smiled again. "You owe me."

I nodded, and went quiet. "I need to repay that debt sometime."

"Why not now?" He looked me straight in the eyes…and moved in to kiss me.

"Theresa, I need your help in here!" Sara called from the infirmary, startling the both of us. We pulled away before our lips touched, and I looked behind me, my heart pounding.

"I'll be back there in a minute. I just need to finish up in here with Michael." I turned back to him, smiling apologetically. "I'll have to repay you later."

"To be continued." he replied, and left, my eyes following him the entire way.

_What the hell is wrong with you? He's in **prison**, Theresa! You've had bad taste in men in the past, but this is just ridiculous. _

_He's taking advantage of you...and you're doing nothing to stop it._

_What the hell are you going to do?_


	7. Liar

A/N: I am a little aggravated with season one right now, but I'll make sure that I won't skip more than an episode or two...even though it's aggravating. :P In my opinion, it's harder to write a "doctor" character because Sara wasn't shown all that much, if you remember, so I'm doing most of this from my mind, except for when I _have_ to follow the story line. And I'm sorry if Sara doesn't act like she did in the series, but she won't be around for long, anyways. Read and review because they give me thrills. :]

P.S. I know that Theresa would not of known Bob for that long, but I wanted to mess around, and I was bored as hell. And I wanted a nice little scene between brother and sister anyways. And I apologize for the large amount of hugging/affection T-Bag and Theresa have going on, but they're all the family they have. So suck it. :] Enjoy!

_"Her name is Susan Hollander, Theresa. And she is the most beautiful woman in the world, except for you, that is." I returned the grin my brother threw me, and took the photo from him. _

_"Oh, she has kids, too?" He nodded, still beaming happily. _

_"This is a sign. This is a sign that…" he trailed off, staring at the picture._

_"A sign that God forgave you?" I asked, scooting closer. He gave a small smile and laid his arm around my shoulders before planting a kiss on my forehead._

_"He has, Sister Theresa. He most definitely has."_

X X X X

"Bob is dead?" Sara nodded, her face mirroring my own expression of shock.

"They say he died during the riot. An inmate shanked him." I sat down in my chair, numb.

"Oh God…he has a wife and daughter." I thought of the times we had spoken, how he had proudly shown the picture of his little girl in her prom dress to Sara and I. He had told us she was going off to college soon… "Who do they think did it?"

"Bellick doesn't know. But he says he has a lead on one of the prisoners, but he wouldn't tell me who. But he did say..."

"What? Tell me!" I exclaimed, tossing my paperwork down on the desk with a dull thump. It was aggravating when she did things like that.

"He said that southern piece of trash was dead."

X X X X

_**Through Theodore Bagwell's eyes**_

"Open on Cell 16!" He looked up, eyebrows raised in a silent question. It was the fat C.O., Bellick, sweating and strutting his imaginary stuff like always. He reminded T-Bag of the big bad wolf, always huffin' and puffin'. Today, though, he looked, well...blank. His piggy eyes were slighty rimmed in red, like he has shed a few tears recently, and he had no expression at all. Strange.

"Let's go, Bagwell. You're going to the infirmary." he muttered, and for some reason, it felt like there was a double meaning in that.

"Whatever you say, boss." he drawled, standing and leaving his smaller "companion" behind. "Why are we visiting that particular place, anyway?"

"Shut up, con." He was slightly taken aback, but regained his cool composure as they entered the infirmary.

"Here he is. I'll be in the hallway, so just call when you're done." Bellick left, and T-Bag tuned to his sister, smiling. The look on her face stopped him cold. She looked upset, and slightly lost, a look that reminded him of when they still lived in Alabama...with their father.

"Theresa? What's wrong? Tell me right now what happened." She dragged him into her office, shut the door, and pulled the blinds before rounding on him. She looked like she was trying not to cry.

"You tell me, Theodore. Officer Robert Hudson is dead, did you know that?" Her voice was low and strained, on the brink of cracking.

"Of course, sis. Every con in here heard about what happened. The C.O.'s are out for blood." he replied cautiously. "They're getting nowhere, as far as I've heard." She scoffed, and he saw her hands shake as she gripped the back of her chair, eyes downcast, her lips pressing into a thin line. He could see the muscles in her jaw clenching and unclenching in a painful looking way.

"You know, I heard a funny story today. I heard from Sara that Bellick thinks _you had something to do with it_." His sister's gaze met his, and what he saw in her eyes wasn't rage like he expected...it was tears. "I know as well as anyone else that rumors are just shit, but hey, maybe I'm a little fucked up to think that Bellick is right." T-Bag was a little thrown off by Therea's choice of words, she usually kept her speech clean, but when she was upset that changed in a heartbeat. He moved towards her, but she backed up, her hands balled into fists.

"Theresa, listen to me-"

"**_NO_**." she hissed through bared teeth, and he knew that if hey weren't around people, she would be screaming. "I need to know, Theodore. **_Did you do it_**?"

"No, sis. It wasn't me." he lied, heart in his throat. He _hated_ lying to his sister, but he had to. He _had_ to. She ducked her head, and tears started to course down her face. He carefully took her in his arms, feeling the drops of moisture drop on his shirt.

"Jesus, he had a wife. _He had a **kid**_." she whispered. T-Bag swallowed hard, and kept his trap shut. "And he was...he was a good person, too. N-nice to Sara and m-me." He grammar failed, and her accent became heavier when she was upset. And he always hated to see her cry.

_**See through my eyes**_

I couldn't tell if he was lying or not, and it bothered me. I needed to know the truth.

"Believe me, sis. Please. I can't have you hating me." I nodded, not saying another word. I mean, what _could_ I say? 'Sorry bro, but I think you're a liar? I think you killed a decent man, and I hope someone shanks you?' No...no. He was everything in the world to me...he was all I had. Family can never forsake family and all that bullshit.

"Watch out for Bellick. He's bad news." I murmured before sending him away, something painful sitting in my chest.

_It feels like I'm keeping a horrible secret...and I'd rather die than tell it. Hell, it's prison. Who can say that I won't?_


	8. In the Dark

A/N: I am in an extremely good mood, know why? I FINALLY got to blow my money at the comic book/book store, so I bought _Silence of the Lambs, Hannibal, _and _Batman: Scarecrow and Two-Face Year One_. XD I would've updated sooner, but my damn internet decided not to work. Anyway, enough of my yammering, enjoy, and please read and review!

P.S. This chapter will be a 3rd person chapter…shut up, you'll like it. :] But it will be from T-BAG'S P.O.V. because I do so _love_ writing with his opinion thrown in. Shakes everything up. Read and review!

P.S.S. This chapter is for KigekiRyuu483

X X X X

_"Susan_..."Her name is whispered into the dark, slowly easing out of T-Bag's mouth. He does what he has done for the past few years; he thinks of the last time he saw her smile, the final time he felt her lips on his own. Then he envisions the first and only time she came to see him…and that look of disgust mingling with fear in her clear, beautiful eyes as she spit on the window separating the two of them. He forgives her for that every night, and, in his mind, he holds her close to him, and strokes her hair.

The boy on the cot below, Seth, sighs quietly in his sleep, and T-Bag leans over the edge of his bunk, peering through the darkness. The kid is out cold, his face relaxed and seemingly happy; a look never seen before on his face inside these walls. A small smile plays across his lips as he settles back onto his bed, hands behind his head, gazing at the ceiling.

_"Maybe I'm just a little fucked-up to think that he's right." _His sister's voice cuts across his thoughts like a knife, making unease sink into his gut. The man set up to take the fall has already been taken away, and he congratulates himself for a job well done, except…he keeps imagining Theresa's face when she said that, and it hurts him every time. _I made her cry…__**I **__did._

She was one of those women that looked pretty when they cried, but it didn't make him feel any better. In fact, it cut him even deeper.

T-Bag pushed his sister out of his mind, and focused on what was going on tomorrow. He had a P.I. card, and he was definitely in. There was nothing Michael and the others could do about it. _Speaking of Michael…_

He remembered the sparkle in his sibling's eyes when she had told him how Pretty had rescued her…and the time when he left just as Michael was coming in, and how she gave Scofield that radiant smile of hers. Had she fallen for him? T-Bag laughed quietly to himself, thinking that his sister was smart enough to not fawn over an inmate. But, then again, she always had terrible taste in men.

X X X X

T-Bag didn't hate Michael, he was just was annoyed with him. And he _really_ didn't like how Scofield looked at him like he was trash, even though he had done something to get put in this hellhole that wasn't exactly pleasant either. He gazed at the younger man across the yard, each in their respective groups and places. His boys had informed him that the C.O.'s break room had been burned down, and joy leaped inside his heart. He was so _close_ to getting out of here.

T-Bag stood, and made his way down the bleachers, Cherry faithfully grabbing on his pocket and following close behind, but this time, he slapped the boy away.

"I have something to do, boys. Take care of him, will ya?" He crossed the yard, his eyes locked on his destination.

"You and I need to have a conversation, pretty." He said, Michael rounding on him with disgust on his face.

"We have nothing to discuss, T-Bag." He tried to turn back, but T-Bag grabbed his shoulder, his eyes burning hot.

"Oh, we do." Michael reluctantly left Sucre and "the sink" behind, and led the older man away before speaking.

"What do you want?" he asked, dislike etched into his bright eyes.

"I…" T-Bag was at a loss for what he needed to say. How could it be so hard to utter those simple words? He tried to start again, but once again, his speech failed him. Michael sighed in frustration and stalked back to his brother and his darker friend, leaving T-Bag standing there, words stuck in his throat.

_How can it be so hard to say thank you?_

X X X X

P.I. had just ended, and they had made progress, surprisingly. They had started to break the floor with sledgehammers, and in a short amount of time…they would be over the wall, and free to go where they pleased, as long as they didn't screw up and get caught, of course. T-Bag managed to corner Michael again as they were leaving the former break room, and this time, he was determined.

"What is it this time?" he looked impatient, and annoyed.

"I need to say something." Michael raised his eyebrows, waiting.

"My sister, Theresa…she would've been up the creek and severely lacking a paddle if it weren't for you. I…I needed to give you my thanks." The words felt strange and unfamiliar in his mouth, and weirdly formal. Michael's face softened slightly, but still kept its coolly composed look.

"She's okay now, right?"

He nodded, and Scofield gave a strained little smile. "Good, then." He went to go catch up his Mexican friend, and T-Bag stood there, stunned and slightly shocked. He followed the group inside and listened to Pretty and Sucre laugh and talk like they were old friends. He went to go meet up with his boys. His eyes glanced upwards for a second or two, and then shot back.

Seth was on the top tier, a look of desperation on his face, but beneath that was plain determination. He had made a rope of bed sheets and slipped it around his neck before climbing over the railing, and looking down, his hands white as they clutched the metal bars. He let go, and his silent fall took an eternity, every second in slow motion. There was a loud snap as the sheets became taught, but T-Bag couldn't tell if that was from the blankets or the boy's neck. Time resumed its normal pace, and the C.O.'s rushed forward to cut the kid down, but it was obvious to everyone that he was dead.

In the middle of that chaos, T-Bag stood there, his hands curled into fists as he watched Michael, and considered the look of pure hate the man threw him. He remembered that tiny, strained smile he had seen not so long ago, and wondered just how much this man liked his sister. And he wondered just how much this man hated _him._


	9. Mourning and Recovery

A/N: Hello, all! Here's another chapter for you guys, woo two in one day! :D Well, this one is ALSO written partially from T-Bag's P.O.V. Why? Because it would really suck for me to write it completely from Theresa's perspective, that's why. I might do a T-Bag chapter every now and then, but not very often after this, unless it's one where I feel Mr. Theodore Bagwell can say it better than Ms. Theresa Bagwell can. Sooo…please enjoy, and don't bitch too much at me. Read and review!

P.S. It will be a few days before I update again, because school is starting for me tomorrow, but I promise to update when I can. :3

P.S.S. Yeah, yeah, I know I don't exactly follow the script. :D I changed the phone conversation to make the chapter better for you guys.

X X X X

"Last name Myers, first name Seth. Seventeen years old, sentenced to three years for stealing a car. No priors, so I suppose the judge let him off with a light sentence. He was to come up for parole in six months or so. Time of death was called at 4:27 p.m. by me." Sara concluded, flipping through the file of the young boy who lay cold on the metal table. I examined the body with a deep seated sadness in my stomach as I ran my gloved fingers over the purple marks encircling his throat like a horrible choker. The sheets had cut into his throat post-mortem, and there were black, slightly gaping wounds as a remainder. His neck had been broken by the fall, so he didn't suffer, thank God.

"Jesus, how does a kid turn out like this?" I muttered, stripping off my gloves unhappily and shot them into the trash before running a hand through my loose waves.

"Unhappy family life, trouble at school, all the wrong friends." My friend replied, unsmiling. This wasn't exactly a treat for her, either.

"Yeah, well my family life wasn't great but look how I turned out. I'm a doctor, and this kid is dead. It's a ridiculous world we live in, isn't it?" She nodded, turning her back on the sad sight. I didn't blame her, because it _was_ depressing. And what made it worse was that the family would have to come by soon to claim the body, according to Sara. That was certainly going to be a special kind of hell.

X X X X

Nothing. Nothing is what T-Bag felt after watching his "companion" jump to his death. Well, he felt slightly sad, of course, and shocked. _That's what this must be. It's only shock._

He managed to carry on fairly well, he kept up his cocky leader side up, and joked with his was he _supposed_ to do, wail and lament? No...just no. Scofield was standing by the fence, watching as something familiar flickered across his face.

Dread.

T-Bag joined him by the fence, biting his lip to barely repress a grin as he noticed the bus pulling up to the prison. "Fresh meat." he breathed, and Michael tightened his grip on the wire fence almost imperceptibly. Together they watched the young and old men file off the bus in silence. T-Bag's gaze landed on one in particular, a slightly muscled kid with brown hair, and a "don't fuck with me" look about him. It tickled T-Bag. Here was a boy who didn't seem to know what race he was, his pants all hanging down, his sleeve rolled up to reveal a solitary tattoo. He was attempting to chat up the guy in front of him, but that man was stunned into silence by the prison.

Oh, that boy would be _fun.  
_

X X X X

P.I. again, and his efforts on the boy, whom he had affectionately named Tweener, had so far been unsuccessful. He had turned to harassing when his "friendly" approach didn't work, and it turned out to be fun, or what the equivalent of _fun_ could be inside this fortress. He stepped into the gutted break room, and before he knew it, he was on the floor, cursing and shouting in pain.

His attacker stood over him, and he hissed a painful breath out through his teeth when he recognized it as _Scofield_. He stood there, venom in his eyes, a crowbar in his long fingered hands.

"Oh you just made a huge mistake there, Pretty. I'm gonna sing like a tree _full_ of birds, now! _Badge_!"Michael bent down swiftly, his eyes locked with T-Bag's.

"You see I don't think you will. You want to get out of here just as badly as everyone else. You and I may be stuck together in this little dance, but I call the shots. First shot, that kid out there – you don't touch him, ever. Do we understand each other?"

"We do." T-Bag growled, clutching his leg.

The guard came in, annoyed. "What, con?"

"Nothing, just thought some tools was missing, that's all."

There was a short pause before the guard just snarled at them to go back to work. Abruzzi smirked, causing him to scowl, hell, almost snarl at him in response. It took all of his self control to not shank Pretty right then and there.

X X X X

"How in God's name do you keep getting hurt?" I asked, smiling at my brother's sweet, sheepish expression.

"Too much partying, too little sleep." I snorted in an unladylike way and finished my inspection of his leg.

"Your bone is bruised, and it will cause you to walk with a limp for a day or two." I squeezed his hand, and patted his cheek before sending him away, and turning to Sara.

"I found something interesting out about Michael. Awhile back he went to a therapist. I just finished talking to her on the phone."

"Oh? What did she treat him for?"

"Low latent inhibition."

"English please?"

"Well, people who suffer from low latent inhibition see every day things just like we do, like a lamp. But where we just see the image of a lamp, they see everything. The stem, the bulb, the bolts, even the washers inside. Their brains are more open to incoming stimuli in the surrounding environment. Other people's brains – ours – shut out the same information. We have to do it, in order to keep our sanity. If someone with a low IQ has low latent inhibition, it almost always results in metal illness. But, if someone has a high IQ, it almost always results in creative genius"

"Michael's a genius?"

"Apparently."

"What else was he treated for?" This was actually explaining...well, a hell of a lot.

"She said he came to her with absolutely no sense of self-worth. The loss of both parents very often does that to a child. But, with the low latent inhibition, something interesting happened to Michael. He became very attune to all the suffering around him. He couldn't shut it out. He became a rescuer. One of those people who are more concerned with other people's welfare than their own, according to her."

"Jesus...I didn't know that."

""Well maybe you don't know Michael Scofield."

"Yeah...but maybe no one does."


	10. Remember

A/N: I know, I'm awful for not posting, but my interwebs kinda exploded and didn't work for a while, but hey! New chapter! Love me again?

P.S. Threw in a plot twist for you...you might like it, you might not, either way, I'm happy with it.

P.S.S. FLASHBACK AGAIN! XD

_The world around me was dark, except for the faint shapes I could make out, and I had no idea of my surroundings, other than the sound of two men yelling. "Teddy?" I ventured, in my little girl voice, my heart pounding as I edged towards a door with a small crack of light shining underneath. I opened it, blinded slightly by the brightness, and after I got used to it, I saw what lay before me._

_My dad and brother were arguing heatedly while my momma stared into space at the kitchen table, her mind on a different time and place that I hoped was happier. _

_"I'm taking her out of here!" my brother shouted, sparking flying from his eyes as he stood up to our dad, who was obviously drunk._

_"Over my dead body! You'll have to kill my ass to get her!" my dad screamed, spit flying from his mouth._

_"Whass goin' on?" I drawled sleepily, rubbing my eyes, and both of them froze. "Why you fightin'?" Teddy took advantage of my dad's surprise, and shoved him to the ground, running over and taking my hand._

_"YOU GET BACK HERE!" my dad roared as we took off, heading towards the crevasses of the house. My brother opened a closet and quickly pushed we gently inside, kneeling in front of me as he pulled something out of his jacket and handing it to me._

_It was a gun._

_"Theresa, this will keep you safe. If you get scared...squeeze the trigger there, don't pull squeeze. I'll be back soon."_

_He closed the door as I slid to the wood floor of the closet, tears coating my cheeks as footsteps pounded closer and yelling started again._

_"Where the hell is she?" my father thundered, his words almost inaudible they were so slurred. I edged close to the closet door, peeking through the little shutters at my poppa and my brother._

_"She's gone! She's never coming back you ignorant fuck!" My dad tackled Teddy to the ground, and they started fighting, swearing and throwing punches all the way. Poppa rolled on top of Teddy and started to choke him, screaming horrible things at him. My brother's face turned red as he lost air and couldn't breathe. I closed my eyes tightly against the flood of tears...and squeezed the trigger. The sound was deafening and I thought that I had died, that everything was gone..._

_My hearing returned as the closet door opened, and when I opened my eyes Teddy stood there, coughing harshly as air returned to his lungs, but in that moment, with the light shining all around him, he looked like an angel.. He picked me up and held me tight as I started sobbing, the only sound in the air, until I heard the faint sound of my momma crying too.  
_

_"Close your eyes, Theresa." my big brother whispered, and I did, but not before I caught a glimpse of my poppa's outstretched legs, and the small puddle of red stuff that was spreading. He carried me into the kitchen before taking away the gun and stashing it away again and went over to momma._

_"Shh momma. It's okay. Just a car backfiring so don't cry, it's okay." He hushed her, and made her drink her tea before returning to me with another cup that seemed to materialize from nowhere, but this one was filled with hot chocolate. He gathered me in his lap and rocked me back and forth, smoothing my hair and letting me cry, my mind still numb except for the part that controlled the tidal wave of tears._

_I don't know how long we sat there, but I somehow drank all of the hot chocolate and calmed down enough to wait there while he put my momma to bed, and returned just in time to grab the phone._

_"Yeah? Yeah, everything is good. We just had a...problem. She's fine, Jack. We'll be there later." He hung up and dialed a number, all the while stroking my hair. He talked to the person about care for a mentally ill woman, and gave our address before hanging up again._

_He kneeled in front of me and tucked the hair behind my ears, a sad look on his face. "Theresa, we need to leave. I got some clothes for you over at my house, and we'll get you away from school for a while, okay?" I nodded, my mind empty and my eyes tired. He kissed my forehead softly before picking me up easily and carrying me out the door, into the night, and set me down in the passenger seat of his car before crouching down in front of me again._

_"Theresa...I want you to know something. What happened in there was my fault. I did that."_

_"But..you didn't." I whispered quietly._

_"I did. That's what happened and nothing else. And this...what happened here tonight is our secret. You can't tell no one about this, understand?"_

_"But why?"_

_"Cause this is between us. And no one is going to know what happened but the two of us, Theresa. And we will never talk about what happened here tonight again, okay?"_

_"Okay, Teddy." He gave that sad, sad smile of his again before he gave me a blanket and a pillow form the back, and leaned my seat back for me. The sunroof opened above me as he started the car, and the stars shone above me, along with a fat white moon. My brother held my hand as I finally closed my eyes...and was able to sleep with no dreams for the first time in years.  
_


	11. MonsterUprooted

A/N: Another flashback! Don't know why, but I feel compelled to explain just why our favorite brother and sister moved to the Great Windy City. I hope this chapter will encourage you to forget about my long, unexcused absence. Merry late Christmas, Happy New Year, and all that shit.

P.S. I watched the remake of The Longest Yard, the one with Adam Sandler and (my personal favorite) William Fichtner. And I must confess when William Fichtner was on screen dressed in that blue football uniform on the guard practice field…MMMFFF. Almost gave a fangirl squeak right there. Might do a Longest Yard story just because of it, but enough of my filthy mind and mouth.

_The sound of something breaking in the close vicinity of my room startled me out of an uneasy sleep. I bolted upright, straining to hear. I slipped a hand under my bed, and closed my fingers around the cold but reassuring feel of the aluminum bat I had affectionately named "Titan". I padded out of the bedroom, and heard a quit curse come from my kitchen, and I stiffened, ready to attack as I entered…_

_ "Teddy!" My brother looked up in surprise from the small pile of debris that had once been a drinking glass, and then a smile spread across his face._

_ "Well good morning, sister. No, don't come in here, I'll go to you." He crossed the kitchen and picked me up, eliciting a small shriek from me, and then swung me onto the counter. I giggled, and let go of the bat, letting it lean against the counter as Teddy grabbed the broom. _

_ "You should tell me when you come over so I don't accidentally beat you to death." I stated, swinging my legs back and forth in the air. My brother looked up, an eyebrow raised. _

_ "I'm so terrified." He said, indicating the big red flannel shirt I wore to bed, and the black shorts I had on underneath that exposed my tanned legs. I stuck out my tongue and hopped down as he tossed the shards away, then surveyed the mess he had made. He had dragged out my waffle iron, and had made a batter from scratch, except it looked like he had battle a dragon while making it. Flour was scattered on the red counters (on the floor too) and the remnants of eggshells were lying there like a pile of wounded soldiers, still oozing. I rolled up my sleeves and started to clean up the battlefield. _

_ My older brother fiddled with the radio, and he laughed as a deep voice said, "Ladies and gentlemen, this is Mambo No. 5." I smiled and plugged in the waffle iron, happiness in my heart and laughter in my voice._

_ X X X X_

_ "Theresa, your food will be the death of me." My brother murmured lazily. We had finished eating a while ago, and now we were in my backyard, lounging with happy tummies. Months ago, when I first bought the small house, I had gone a little crazy with flowers and gardening. The grass had been overtaken by the large field of sunflowers I had lovingly tilled, sowed, and watered. They were my favorite flowers, beautiful, tall, and royal with beautiful coloring. I dragged two reclining lawn chairs into the giant orange and yellow flower forest, and Teddy and I were now lying there side by side, chairs tipped all the way back, our hands intertwined. _

_ "I swear that on my headstone it will say, 'Killed by his sister, who was too much of an excellent cook for her own good.'" I nudged his leg with my bare foot, and stuck out my tongue._

_ "Such a liar." Earlier I had changed into a flowy, cream tank top and a pair of high-waist, brown 1950 style shorts, and I enjoyed the feeling of sun on my legs. The tall, tree like flowers cut into the impossibly blue sky, and casted shadows across the two of us, and I started to doze, completely content._

_ A banging at my front door jerked me up, and I stood, confused. "Stay here." I told my brother, who nodded, and I made my way around to the front of the house. A black car was parked at the curb, and two men were waiting at my door. I could instantly tell they were police._

_ "Ms. Bagwell?" One of them asked, the slight breeze ruffling his messy black hair. He seemed pleasant enough, and his brown eyes were kind. He pulled out a badge and showed it to me. "I'm Detective George Hart and this is my partner."_

_ "Detective James Franklin." The other man offered, who seemed the total opposite of his partner. He had buzz cut blond hair and eyes like steel shavings, and, where his partner was fit and slim, this man was probably a close cousin of the giant at the top of the beanstalk. He looked like a _tank_._

_ "May we come inside, Ms. Bagwell? We have a matter to discuss with you."_

_ "Uh…yeah, sure. Call me Theresa." I led them into the house and they sat on the brown leather couch. "Coffee, soda, water?" I offered, but Hart politely refused. Franklin grunted a no. I grabbed a Coke and perched on the edge of my red armchair._

_ "Theresa, have you recently been out of town with a family member?" _

_ "No, I've been too busy with work. I'm a doctor at Saint Michael's, and this is the first day I've been able to get off in weeks. You can check with my boss if you want to make sure."_

_ "Well do you know if your brother has been out of town lately?" My stomach started to work itself into an intricate knot, and I took a swallow of coke. _

_ "No sir, detective. We haven't really talked much lately, and he never tells me where he's going. A character flaw of his, I'm afraid." Detective Hart smiled affably and nodded._

_ "Well, Theresa, could you contact me if he does decide to swing by?"_

_ "Excuse me, but what is this about, detective?" I asked, my throat dry as I took another sip of my drink._

_ "Oh, it's nothing, we just need to ask him some questions about something that happened the next town over, nothing serious." __**He's good at lying**__, I thought and smiled, pretending ignorance like I've been doing all my life._

_ "I will contact you if he comes by, detective." They left quietly, and I walked back into the back yard towards my brother. I wasn't dumb, I __**knew**__ what happened in the next town. I watched the news and…_

_ "Who was that, sister?" he asked, smiling. Everything seemed too bright, too real as I went to him._

_ "What did you do?" I whispered, my coke spilling out of my hand and landing on the ground with a thump. He was up in a flash and placed his hands on my shoulders._

_ "Theresa? Theresa, what's wrong? Who was that?" he sounded so worried, so frightened for me, not at all like a monster._

_ "Police. About kids." I couldn't speak and I felt my throat closing up. The color leached out of his face and he touched my cheek as I started to choke. I couldn't breathe, oh God. I was gasping like a fish plucked straight from the water, and I thought I was going to die like one, choking on the air._

_ Theodore held me as I went to my knees, my fingers grabbing handfuls of his white shirt as I struggled. He knelt as well, his forehead pressed to mine. "Remember, from 100. 99, 98, 97, 96…"_

_ The day was beautiful, the birds were chirping and singing sweetly as I was suffocating. My brother counted out loud while I tied to followed his lead in my head. Black curtains flickered at the edge of my vision as I started to pass out._

_ "I'm sorry." A voice whispered, then I felt my cheek sting, and I was suddenly breathing again. I lost consciousness soon afterward._

_ X X X X_

_ "Chicago?" Teddy asked, much, much later._

_ "Yes, you need to go there. Far away from Alabama and this city. Otherwise…"_

_ "Otherwise I'll be arrested." I nodded grimly, my fingers freezing despite the hot coffee cup I had nestled in my hands. He looked old, and tired as he rubbed his face with his hands._

_ "I'll follow you after I find an apartment up there, and after I give my two weeks notice." His head shot up and he looked at me in disbelief._

_ "Why are you coming with?" he asked. It took me a second to answer._

_ "Because you do better with me around. And I don't want to leave you all alone up there." He pulled me against him, and I buried my face in his chest as he stroked my hair. I couldn't tell him why I really was coming up there too._

_**I'm coming with because you do better when I'm around: You don't hurt people when I'm with you.**_

_**I don't want to leave you all alone up there: I don't want you alone at all.**_

_**And most importantly… I don't want anyone else to know that you're a monster.**_


End file.
